Armageddon Journals
by guy640
Summary: In the fifth era, Tamriel is devastated by many unknown catastrophes. Now, one Khajiit attempts to put the puzzle together by assembling a massive collection of journals written by a variety of authors. Will she reveal the truth, or will greater powers seek to destroy her?
1. Librariit's Journal Chapter 1

**Author's note: I'm trying to write this story in the style of many journals. They don't really go in a particular order, but the chapter title will always tell you whose journal it is, and probably the beginning of the chapters too. The first chapter is sort of an establishing entry, but you'll see all about that later. Just read and enjoy, review with constructive criticism if you're awesome, I'd be happy to accept it.**

I should probably pen in what is happening in this current age. I am Librariit IV. I come from a long line of Khajiit librarians who made their living maintaining vast collections of books. Today is the second day of the fifth month of the first year of the fifth era. Skyrim, Cyrodiil, and indeed most of Tamriel and presumably all other lands of Nirn have been ravaged and devastated by events in the fourth era. Many, many lives were lost and most cities were destroyed. There is still a community of men and mer, along with some Argonians and Khajiit, living in Skingrad in the Imperial Province. Rosethorn Hall, the site of the largest library in Cyrodiil in its time, is my current abode. The library was created by my earliest known ancestor, Librario I.

From that time, I can tell many things in Skingrad were different. It was smaller back then. From Librario's journal, a special family heirloom, Castle Skingrad used to have a road outside the city that connects it to Skingrad. Now, the castle is surrounded by buildings, some in states of disrepair. Albius Hassildor has been the count of Skingrad for quite some time, although there was no real rank of people here anymore. He was our unofficial leader, probably the most influential person in the world. I had restored my forefather's library to some greatness. As most other centers of knowledge had been destroyed, it was a safe assumption that Rosethorn Hall was the largest in the world.

Albius had tasked me with gathering and storing knowledge. One of my ancestors, Librario VI, had tended to the largest library in Skyrim. It's my duty to recover whatever records are left in her ancient home in Markarth. That is how I am here, outside the once-city gates. Albius sent me with a party here to collect any books that may have survived the catastrophes that have struck our land. My party, which includes myself, two Orsimer warriors, an Altmer mage, and an Argonian, have traveled for ten days to reach the city of Markarth. We set up camp outside the city, as we do not know what will be on the other side. That was last night. Soon, the other members of my group will rise, and some have already.

After my party readied itself for the city, we entered the gates. The first thing I noticed when we entered the city was the huts of the Falmer. In the times of Librario VI, most Falmer lived underneath the surface of Nirn. However, recent events have allowed for most of them to wreak havoc on the surface. Besides the huts, which were in varying stages of dilapidation, there were no other signs of the Falmer. No bodies, no Chaurus. It's as if they had packed all of their cattle and left. This was fortunate for my party. Still, I reminded them to be careful.

We made our way up the dry walkway that once flowed water, I'm told. The library stood up several flights of stairs, high in the city. It was named Vlindrel Hall in the fourth era.

I approached the location of the hall, but several boulders had fallen in front of the doorway. I signaled for the Orcs to assist, and they found that rocks were easy to move with their combined strengths. Soon, I had my hands on the door, attempting to pull it from its frame. It was locked. I pulled one more time to make sure. Definitely locked. The Altmer mage pulled me aside and cast a powerful unlock spell. The door gave a compliant clink. I seized the door one more time and yanked the door open. I peered inside, but my eyes could not focus.

As soon as I had opened the door, the smell of death and a shrill scream assaulted my ears and nose. I immediately drew my weapon, a large sword crafted of ebony and enchanted heavily with the power of ice and fire. I shouted into the hall, "Who is there?"

An Imperial came out, incredibly thin. He held up a dagger feebly, and said, "You're not the Falmer."

"What are you doing here?" I spoke to him.

The Imperial started timidly, but soon spoke out, "I live here... It used to be a library, and I had always had a few extra books..."

"How long have you been here?" I continued to interrogate him.

"Ever since the Falmer came out from the Nchuand-Zel a few weeks ago." The Imperial was more compliant than I initially had thought. If we could take him back to Skingrad with us, he could help me tend to Rosethorn Hall.

The man's posture loosened and he turned around. Then he began to ask questions. "Where are the Falmer? What are you people doing here?"

"There were no Falmer when we arrived. We thought the city was abandoned," I answered, "We're here to collect whatever tombs of old we can find. This library was owned by my ancestors, and count Albius Hassildor has requested that we recover as much of the remaining knowledge as we can..." I paused for a brief second. "There's a small community at Skingrad with plenty of food. You should come back with us."

"It's the only hope you have for living," The Argonian added when he saw the look of doubt on the Imperial's face.

"I guess I should. It's the only way for me to stay with my books."

"Yes, what books do you have remaining here? I need to see what we absolutely must take." I said quickly.

"I have many here. Surprisingly, most of them survived since the fourth era. I have the complete set of Dwemer Inquiries by Thelwe Ghelein," He said first.

"We don't have that in Skingrad, we must take them," I said.

The Imperial went through a long list of books, including the complete sets of A Dance in Fire, 2920, Mythic Dawn Commentaries, and Rising Threat, along with many, many others. When he was done, most of our party had bags full of books. "Is there anything else?"

"I have a wide array of journals collected as well. Maybe you would want those?" He said.

"Yes, those probably provide some of the answers to what happened to Tamriel. We must have them." I said, prompting the Imperial to go in a back room with a large sum of small notebooks. I placed them in my own bag for safe keeping.

"There are two more books, but I fear that taking them may not be a good idea." The Imperial said.

"Why not? Show me." I demanded.

The Imperial led me to the master bedroom of Vlindrel Hall. I immediately felt the evil in the room. On the bed was a skeleton of a Khajiit woman, most probably one of my very own ancestors. A large black blade was stuck between the bones of her ribcage. By her side, two large books. One seemed to be sewn from skin and the other had a depiction of a woman on it's covers. "They are Daedric in origin. They're the Dreamstride and The Oghma Infinium. They're books of Vaermina and Hermaeus Mora."

As soon as he said those names, I knew that we couldn't bring them back to Skingrad with us. We couldn't risk attracting the attention of those that started it all.


	2. Thales' Journal Chapter 1

From the journal of Thales Hammer-Arm,

Fredas, 1 Morning Star, 4E 204

I guess I'm in this situation because I was arrogant, or maybe it's because I never listened to people. Either way, I'm stuck here, a slave to a dragon. I guess I should write down how it happened, so my grandchildren will know their elder's story... As if I'll ever have children.

I was walking from Morthal to Whiterun. The innkeeper, Jonna, had told me to watch out for dragons in the mountains. I dismissed her worries without a second thought. There hadn't been a dragon in a long while, what with the Dragonborn hunting them. I traveled directly south, as to avoid Labyrinthian. I started into a mountain, and upon reaching the top, I stopped and stared at the scenery laid before me. I was immersed in the beauty of the plains for several minutes. Then I heard a noise. A terrible Thu'um more horrible than I've ever heard in all my years. A shrill voice cried, "Qo! Iiz! Yol!" Waves of ice, fire, and lightning poured over me. The Thu'um overwhelmed me. I was on my knees in an instant. A dragon landed behind me, knocking me off balance. I rolled over to face my foe, unsheathing my dagger, without any true hope that it could save me. In its powerful voice, the dragon spoke. "Drem, joor. Peace."

This dragon was unique. It had shimmering blue scales with dull white eyes. It seemed leaner than the other dragons I'd seen, and it moved with an agility that was unheard of in dragons. "What do you want?" I had said.

"Joor, if you hind dein laas, if you wish to keep your life, then you will be my aar, my servant." The dragon responded.

At the time, I laughed inwardly at the notion of a human serving a dragon. I spat out, "I'll never serve you, demon!"

"Aar uv dinok. Servant or death. Those are the only two choices." Its shrill voice resounded through my head as the earth under me quaked from its feet.

My hands dropped to the ground, my dagger bouncing out beside me. I had no will to die so young. "And what might I call my new master?" I submitted.

"I am Kulaasvolkein. You, joor, are my thrall now. You are not to speak my name. Refer to me as Aazin." The dragon seemed to register my confusion over the whole conversation. "Krosis. It is in a dragon's nature to speak in their tongue. I will restrain myself."

I needed to be careful with my choice of words. "And where would I live?"

"Yes... Joorre require shelter. There is a place in the mountains that is not easily accessed, Deepwood Vale. Joorre can only enter it through Deepwood Redoubt. It is inhabited by the Forsworn. Are you afraid of the Forsworn?"

"A true Nord is afraid of nothing."

The dragon stepped closer to me, its face now inches from mine. "Do you fear me?"

I tried to say something, but no words came to my mouth. "As I thought." The dragon retreated back a few steps and took wing. I was snatched off the ground by its talons in seconds. The force of the blow knocked the wind out of me. The dragon flew so fast I became disoriented. We were at Deepwood Vale in a matter of minutes. I was dropped on top of a tower, where Aazin took roost also. I took note of the dead Forsworn scattered on the ground.

I decided to speak, "Looks like something beat us here."

"I killed them." Aazin said.

"These are wounds inflicted by an axe, not your demon breath."

"Demon breath? I do hope you remember that the dragons are the servants Akatosh, one of your Nine Divines." Aazin's voice resounded, gaining it's shrillness once again, "Dov med joor!"

My eyes nearly flew out of my skull. Before them, Aazin was engulfed in a bright light. When it was gone, a human stood in front of me. An Imperial woman with dark black hair and the same white eyes. She was clad in a full body set of armor fashioned from dragon scales. "What did you do?"

She glanced at me with acute annoyance, "It's a shout, the Thu'um. It allows me to blend in with joorre, and to navigate small caverns."

I stood there for a moment, pondering the implications. I broke the silence with, "Then what do I do now?"

She began to turn to the edge of a ledge and said, "We shall begin your training."

"In what?"

"The Voice, your Thu'um. I cannot have a guard that does not know the Thu'um."

"And what does a dragon need a guard for?"

"Why, for the Dragonborn, of course."

And that's how I started to learn how to use the dragons' Thu'um and how I became enthralled to a dragon. Aazin has forbade me from writing anything pertaining to my lessons, so I do not think that I will be adding any recent entries to my journal.

Middas, 17 First Seed, 4E 204

My initial thoughts on Aazin may have been a little misguided. She's a very unique dragon. She almost acts motherly outside of our training sessions. She's teaching me to control my voice and focus it into shouts. The training has been going well. Aazin says I'm gifted in the voice.

Aazin has told me to be wary of changes in the air and the environment. I haven't left this vale since I arrived, but I am thinking that things will not be the same when I see the outside world again.

Loredas, 1 Second Seed, 4E 204

Aazin has allowed me time off from training today. Something strange happened to the sun overhead during our session. The sun was covered by what seemed like a giant hole that emitted some unnatural light. Aazin looked put off by this turn of events. She assumed her dragon form and flew off when it happened. This can't be a good sign if the sun is blotted out. I'm no scholar, but I'd say that the sun is important to the life of the people of Skyrim. I must speak to Aazin when she returns to learn more about the matter. She surely left to investigate this happening.

Sundas, 2 Second Seed, 4E 204

Aazin returned today. She has explained to me the reasons behind the vanishing of the sun. She says that a Volkihar vampire lord has obtained Auriel's Bow and is using Bloodcursed Arrows to block the shine of the sun. According to Aazin, the sun is the only direct flow of energy between Mundus and Aetherius. She feels as if the blocking of this flow could have dire consequences. She has told me that we will be relocating out of Deepwood Vale. Aazin fears that the state of affairs in Tamriel is about to change dramatically. I can just hope that we can adjust to the new world without losing our minds or our heads.


	3. Sattra's Journal Chapter 1

From the journal of Sattra, high elf arch-mage of the Arcane University. A log of events occurring in the Imperial City during the year 4E 218.

Morning Star

The civil war in Skyrim took a large toll on the Imperial Legion. With Skyrim seceding from the Empire, High Rock wasn't far behind. The Empire had all but completely dissolved. The Aldmeri Dominion haven't let up in their assault on Cyrodiil. Recently, they have been surrounding the Imperial City. Nobody has been in or out of the city in weeks. Our meager supplies are dwindling rapidly. Soon, we run out of food and the bodies will start piling up. Even though I am stranded behind the walls of the city with the rest of the people here, they still manage to to think that I am some sort of Dominion spy. Is it not enough that I've opened the university's supplies to public use? The more time goes by the more sense it makes to just join the Thalmor. I'm sure they'd be happy to have me. Who wouldn't want to have the arch-mage on their side? Apparently, these Imperials don't. They just simply can't trust an elf after what the Thalmor did during the sacking of the city.

Still, the thought of joining the Dominion is sickening. I grew up in the Imperial City, and I plan to die here too. It's been my home all of my life, and I will defend it or die trying. Although many of my life-long friends have turned against me, I will not die a traitor's death in an alley somewhere. I live for the Imperial City, long live the Empire!

There have been tales of disaster from Skyrim. Ever since several years ago, over a decade, I think, the sun has been replaced by a gaping void. My loremaster says that it's blocked Aetherius' contact with Mundus. He says it's made it possible for Daedra to reach Tamriel. From reports, Skyrim has been thoroughly swept by the forces of several Daedric princes.

Sun's Dawn

The siege has been broken. Nobody knows what happened, or how. We were awakened by the night guards' alert. We rushed to the gates to see slews of elven corpses lining their camps. All over the camps were long, string-like, crystalline strands covered in blood. I was sent in a search party to examine what had become of the enemies. What we found was a bit more than disturbing. The strands of crystal strings impaled the corpses, hanging them all in a clothesline-like pattern. We searched through tents, devouring food as we came by it. This went on for some hours as we traveled all around Lake Rumare. Eventually we decided to take camp in a few tents we had cleaned of corpses.

The next day, we continued our search around the city. Upon passing behind the Arcane University, I discovered a bridge of the crystalline strings leading to the University. I took a quick step onto the bridge to confirm that it could hold my weight. Afterwards, I ran as fast as I could over it to reach the city. The bridge curved over the walls and around the circular walkway of the Arcane University. From the bridge extended several crystalline strands that impaled mages below. I wept silently for my subordinates, but decided not to waste too much time lingering. I ran into the main building and ran through the portals leading to my chambers, weaving through the crystals lining the rooms. I reached my quarters, and there was a Khajiit. His back was turned to me, and he was leaning over the chest at the foot of my bed.

He withdrew several pieces of armor from the chest, heavily enchanted pieces that I couldn't afford to lose. But he was upon me in a second, his claws weaving patterns of crystal into the air. I stepped back, readying an ice spell, when I gazed at the Khajiit's eyes. Each one emitted a glowing hatred and evil. They each had dark black sclera surrounding a bright red hourglass-shaped iris.

I flung my spell wild, and ran for the portal out of the tower. Before I could reach it, a sticky liquid slid around my feet and hardened, immobilizing my body. Soon, the liquid was all around me, hardening into a shell of crystal. After that, I blacked out.

Rain's Hand

After I came to, I was bound by those crystalline strings. They covered my hands and feet, restraining them against a wall. I wasn't in the arch-mage's quarters anymore. I was in a different room that was large and circular. Around me were other people, mostly mages I recognized from the University. In the middle of the room was a pedestal with a large gem in the middle. I recognized it as Azura's Star, but it looked different. Darker, edgier. I could feel that my magicka being drained from my very being. Then I pieced everything together. This was the Khajiit's idea of a magicka farm. Ingenious, really. He used a soul gem to draw the magicka from a room full of mages. I was there for at least weeks. My life was maintained strangely through the crystalline structures that surrounded my extremities. I could feel the strength pour into me, just to have my magicka stripped away from me.

Many of us had struggled against our bindings, to no avail. The crystalline structures were solid as rock. The only thing that might break them is a blast of magic, and nobody in this room could perform that. Occasionally the Khajiit would come by and taunt us with news of outside. Eventually, he allowed that we were being kept in the White Gold Tower. The Imperial Palace was burned during the sack of the Imperial City, so his statement confused me thoroughly. My curiosities wouldn't be answered until the seventh of Rain's Hand.

On that day, a master wizard below me arrived in the room with a mage's staff. She blasted off fireballs all over the room, freeing the mages from their bonds. Before long, I was on the ground, gasping from the blow of the fireball. Soon, though, the master wizard was impaled by ten tendrils of crystal. The Khajiit had heard the commotion and come to quell it. These strands were different than the ones before. They wove together and curved around the room, killing mages one after another. I had to think fast. I ran as fast as I could and grabbed the star. The crystals chased after me, having killed most of the others in the room. I continued to run out of the room and down sets of stairs and out other doors. I reached the door to the Imperial City. No doubt the Khajiit was chasing me.

I opened the door to the city. I didn't stop running, but I registered everything that was happening around me. Bodies lined the street while motionless, dancing crystals weaved around the tower. Once I judged I was a safe distance away from the Khajiit, I turned around to gaze upon the tower. The tower was no longer had its white-gold radiance. It was completely covered in the deadly crystal strands that had woven together in an elaborate web pattern. I heard the Khajiit say two words, "The Star!" and I ran. I ran as fast as I could, as long as I could. I passed the ruins of Weye, and fell to the ground in the burnt remains of a house. I write the account of Rain's Hand in this abandoned house.

I don't know what to do anymore. The Imperial City has been lost to a single Khajiit.


	4. Thales' Journal Chapter 2

**So I think I'll stick with these three people, maybe add one or two more regular writers, then just keep it between those and more one-shotty chapters.**

From the journal of Thales Hammer-Arm,

Tirdas, 4 Second Seed, 4E 204

Aazin and I began our move today. Aazin said we wouldn't be able to take anything we couldn't carry, so we loaded what we could and left. Aazin transformed into her dragon form. Initially, I had expected her to carry me off like she had when we came here. Instead, she had offered me to ride on her back, as the ancient Dragonborn had done. It was exhilarating, riding atop the back of a dragon, the apex of aerial superiority! I can't quite describe the experience, it was almost mystical.

On a more important note, when we were arriving at our destination, I saw the remains of a rather large shack. Aazin seemed to somehow notice my bewilderment, as she explained that it was the Vigilant of Stendarr. The Daedra-hunting organization has been sacked and burned the first day after the sun had been darkened. Apparently the Daedra had almost complete access to Mundus, and they had gotten rid of a thorn that had been in their side for quite some time.

Aazin landed nearby, next to an old Nord tomb. She informed me that this was our new residence, Frostmere Crypt. We entered into the old ruins, and found it was completely empty. I asked Aazin if she would be able to transform into her dragon form while in the caves, but she indicated that there was a deeper chamber, Frostmere Depths, that would be able to adequately house her and I.

As we entered Frostmere Depths, I immediately felt amazed at the underground flora, but that feeling was quickly averted by the sounds of swinging blades. We rushed forward to see a Khajiit locked in combat with three ghosts. The Khajiit wielded a large, curved sword in one hand, and a shorter, archaic sword in the other. Aazin held her hand up, signalling me to stop my pursuit of him. She informed me of the nature of his weapons, one being the Daedric Ebony Blade, and the other being the Pale Blade, something he must have taken from here. I stared at the spectacle of the Khajiit battling. He possessed some combination of ruthless efficiency and stunning grace. How he hefted the heavy Ebony Blade over his head so swiftly, I might never comprehend. I didn't have time to ponder on it. He had dispatched what I had been informed to be the Pale Lady.

He quickly turned his attention towards us. He stood still for just a few seconds before making a wild charge towards us. I was sent aback by his movements yet again. He did not move like a normal Khajiit, he didn't move like a normal anything. He had launched towards me with agility that couldn't be compared to anything natural. He didn't even move with his own two feet, instead employing several flipping motions in which he used his hands for support, and a single moment where he pushed down on the Ebony Blade for added speed. I was utterly stunned, completely bewildered by this supernatural ability that he seemingly had.

But Aazin wasn't as dumbfounded as me. She quickly uttered an Ice Form shout, freezing him in his tracks. His momentum carried him forward to some mere feet in front of me. Aazin yelled at me to disarm him. Her voice helped me gather my mind, and I shouted the Disarm shout at full power. The Pale Blade went flying from his hand, but the Ebony Blade responded with a violent outburst of black and red light. I ran as fast as I could will my legs to go to reach the Pale Blade, and was able to grab it just as he recovered from the ice.

The three of us stood still in stalemate. He muttered several curses under his breath as he turned towards the exit of the cavern. He again used his vexing style of locomotion, flipping over himself, but not a single time losing his footing. He reached the stairway leading out of the cavern, but again stunned me into immobility. Eschewing the stairs, he opted to dig the Ebony Blade into the wall, using it as a sort of pivot to launch himself up to the next level. The most bizarre aspect of his movement was the fluidity of it, like it had been practiced several thousand times. Before I could recover from the awe of watching him move, he was gone, and the Ebony Blade with him.

I recovered eventually, and let my arms go limp at my side, the Pale Blade still tight in the grip of my right hand. I turned to Aazin. She, for the first time since we had met and I became enthralled, looked genuinely stressed. No longer worried of what might come, but stressed over the inevitability that something already had.

Loredas, 8 Second Seed, 4E 204

I've been training with the Pale Blade for the past three days. It was surprisingly solid for something as old as it was. Aazin had always recommended enchanted items over plain ones, so I think I'll keep this one. It can't be any harm.

The next few pages are burnt over to a fine, black crisp.


	5. A Tale of Scales, Chapters 1 and 2

**The first book that isn't a journal. Historical information, right here.**

Author information: Tilenu Uvelar is among Tamriel's authorities on assassins. She personally interviewed most of the world's famous assassins, including Bathes-in-Blood.

Tale of Scales, by Tilenu Uvelar

Chapter 1: Steps-in-Shadows

Any Argonian hatched under the sign of the Shadow is deemed a Shadowscale. However, for the last several decades, the Shadow sign has marked no births. That is until Fredas, 23 Frostfall 4E 214. This is the date of birth for the latest, most famous, and possibly most talented Shadowscale in recent centuries.

Born Steps-in-Shadows, she was brought to the King of Black Marsh as soon as she was able to walk. This is where her training began. She was trained in the arts of assassination. That is, archery and the art of knife-throwing. She quickly revealed herself to be a prodigy at these. She excelled above even her teachers in the ways of murder, outshining all other assassins brought to her sessions. By the age of nine, she was well capable of killing anybody she wanted.

The King only had one more thing left to test, her loyalty. Steps-in-Shadows had little relations with anybody else. The closest bond she had made was probably with her instructor, whom she had respected deeply. The King brought them both in his chambers and ordered her to kill her instructor. She was skeptical and unsure for the briefest of moments, before nodding her head. She grabbed her favorite knife, one she always kept on the inside of her boot. The blade shook in her hand for just a second, then she readied for a still shot.

If we were examining Steps-in-Shadows' psychological state, this would probably be the defining moment where she completely lost what she had left of her morality. She flung the knife with such aim, such speed, that it pierced her instructor's eye and gouged into his brain, an instant death. She had done the deed. By the personal account of the King, there was a certain aspect in her eyes that went wild right then.

As the blood began to pour from her instructor's wound, she crouched down near him, embracing his lifeless form. She rubbed her hands together in the blood of her old teacher, not willing to let go of his essence. She lay there, rubbing his blood on her clothes and face for a good five minutes or so. She was pulled away by the King, and this earned her her new name, Bathes-in-Blood.

Chapter 2: Blood of Dragons

After that day, she was even more effective than before. When she was offered to the Dark Brotherhood, her first assignment had her go to Skyrim to kill the Dragonborn. Her plan was to simply corner her in her house in Markarth. She spent most of her time in there, tending to what was the largest library in all of Skyrim at the time.

According to Bathes-in-Blood herself, she sneaked in relatively easily. She was bewildered at the amount of books in the house, mostly because none of them were the same. She made her way into the master bedroom to find the Dragonborn, Libario VI, asleep in her bed. She took a moment to gather her surroundings, but then heard a voice, "So are you here for a book or are you here to put that dagger in my neck?"

In my exclusive interview with Bathes-in-Blood, she reveals the entire battle, from Librario's menagerie of powers to her eventual death. The first thing that Librario did was unleashed an Ice Form shout, freezing Bathes-in-Blood in her tracks. She doesn't recall being frozen, but when she recovered, she found that her opponent had transformed into a vampire lord. She remembered dashing out of the room, only to be followed by the vampire. She stood in front of a book case as to prevent any terribly strong spells. Surely someone as devoted as Librario VI wouldn't ruin some dozens of books. The assassin's instinct was right, and Librario didn't attempt to cast any spells. Instead, she forfeited her vampire form and donned her armor, a massive set of daedric armor glowing with the power of several heavy enchantments.

Librario stormed upon her assailant, not losing a moment. However, Bathes-in-Blood was fast and able to dodge the blow. She threw a knife, but it only glanced off of her target's armor. Librario looked at Bathes-in-Blood for a few seconds before asking, "You're with the Dark Brotherhood, aren't you?" Librario held up her sword, but her attacker was silent. Bathes-in-Blood recalls the next speech as the sole reason she regrets killing the Dragonborn. Librario stood strong and said "I've fought through swarms of Daedra. I killed Alduin the World-Eater so that Tamriel can continue to thrive. I can command the will of the dragons that Skyrim is so afraid of. I have visited Apocrypha to slay the first Dragonborn and I've come out unscathed. And you believe you have the reason and ability to slay me?" She then proceeded to pull a book out of a drawer nearby. Bathes-in-Blood didn't know it at the time, but now identifies it as a Black Book, a portal to Hermaeus Mora's realm of Apocrypha. Librario opened the book, casting it's gaze onto Bathes-in-Blood.

She was unable to describe the experience of being pulled into Oblivion, but she described the place as a mass of books and dark structures. When she had come to her senses, she found that her opponent was there with her, commanding some hulking monstrosity to attack her. According to Bathes-in-Blood, the beast was surprisingly easy to take down using her throwing daggers.

The moment of death came to the Dragonborn only a second later. Bathes-in-Blood drew a single dagger and threw it as quickly as she could. The Dragonborn let an Ice Form shout out, freezing the dagger just before it hit her straight through her throat. Bathes-in-Blood was able to dodge the shout and escape from Apocrypha using the Black Book. When she returned to the library, she scoured through the house to find five of the Black Books, and stole away with them. The guards didn't suspect anything. The Dragonborn's house was a library with complete public access. Visitors were common.

Within the day, Vlindrel Hall was closed down for investigation.


	6. A Bandit's Journal

Bandit's Journal

Middas, 9 Midyear 4E 204

My cohorts and I have recently stumbled upon a rumor of a powerful blade hidden somewhere in the Pale. We've been searching everywhere, asking innkeepers and scholars, but we've only been able to gather what hold it was located in. We attempted to visit the Arcanaeum, but the college wouldn't permit us to enter the premises. An innkeeper in Morthal, Jonna, told us that we could travel to Markarth and visit Vlindrel Hall. It's supposed to be the largest source of general knowledge in Skyrim. We set off for Markarth tomorrow.

Fredas, 11 Midyear 4E 204

We arrived at Vlindrel Hall today. The curator there was odd, to say the least. For one, she was a Khajiit, something that was still not common in Skyrim, even after the war. Secondly, she had the glowing eyes of a vampire. Despite her oddities, she proved highly useful. She disappeared behind a corner for just a second before returning with a book. She permitted us to study the book under supervision. We weren't allowed to take the book, but we did learn the location of the blade. It is located in Frostmere Crypt. Rumors told that the sword was guarded by a powerful ghost of some kind, but my group is confident that we can kill it. We decided to stay in Markarth to revel before we go to the Pale.

-The next several pages are filled with wobbly, illegible writing pockmarked by smears and mead stains.-

Tirdas, 22 Midyear 4E 204

We left for Frostmere Crypt today. We made it here in excellent time, but decided to set up camp in the entry of the crypt to regain our strength. We plan on exploring further tomorrow.

Middas, 23 Midyear 4E 204

We were making good progress earlier this morning, but our efforts were bested by a door. The lock on it is quite difficult to pick, and we ran out of lockpicks trying to unlock it. We sent one of the sellswords we hired to go out and get more, but we don't know when, or if, he'll be back.

Morndas, 28 Midyear 4E 204

We made it through a fair bit of the dungeon after that sellsword came back and picked the lock. We decided to rest at a door we had come across, and we plan to go through in a few minutes.

...

It was terrible. Everybody, dead. I tried to fight her, I really did. The Pale Lady, she isn't a ghost, she's a woman, a Nord! Her skin is as pale as the snow, and her blade as cold as it! She ripped through the others, tore them ribbons! She froze them in their tracks, and killed them all! I was coward. I couldn't fight her, I was such a coward! Maybe they wouldn't all be dead if I wouldn't have ran away! I have to tell somebody, the Jarl, the guards, somebody!


	7. Black Book: Majesty of Battle

The setting is the summoning day of Mephala, two hundred and four years after the third era. Deep in a cave, unbeknownst to the world, a Khajiit stood in the darkness, lit only by a malevolent crimson light. An incantation took his mortality, along with his morality, or what little was left available for the taking. Apocypha's sister slowly took his soul, morphing it to her own desires. From that malleable mortal soul, molded a being so powerful as to rattle mountains and burn cities. It had siphoned the deceitful energies of the Webspinner into the compact form that is a mortal.

Along with this power, he was given a task. He was to search for and destroy the three last hopes Mundus had for survival. These were the Imperial City, long the most prominent symbol of mortal power in the world, a dragon by the name of Kulaasvolkein, who had given a certain liking for mortals since time immemorial, and the Dragonborn, the most powerful of all mortal beings in the plane of Mundus.

Thus, Mephala created a thread of destiny. That thread wove through the annals of history, passing through time until it struck the crux of the modern era. And to this crux, did it deal the most decisive blow to the mortal plane of Mundus.

That crux was the twenty third of Frostfall, the anniversary of the death of empress Kintyra Septim II, ten years and ten days after the thread was woven. On that particular day, with clear skies turned dark by the absence of the sun, two brave warriors stood against the darkness that is Apocrypha's sister on the peak of the largest mountain in Skyrim, known to most mortals as the Throat of the World. One warrior, a woman with skin so fair as to rival the snow around her. The other, a dragon wearing the skin of mortals, of the name Kulaasvolkein. That princess of war and pale lady stood against the Khajiit that no longer had the soul of a Khajiit.

The sister of Apocrypha, Mephala, had long since prepared her avatar for this battle. He was gifted with even more remarkable agility than he had already possessed, the sword as black as the night sky, the unique ability to cast about crystal thread that shreds through the skin of mortals, and a god-like reserve of magicka, stamina, and durability.

Yet, the two brave warriors fought him. And they fought bravely, shouting out all their will at him, yet they could never fell him. He took the brunt of their shouts, but never took the slightest hint of damage. It was truly a sight to behold, and even the eyes of Hermaeus Mora himself had scarcely seen events that were of a comparable magnitude or excitement.

Despite their brave, valiant efforts, the two warriors were of no match for the avatar. The battle ended in his favor, but not after some considerable time of defense put up by his opponents. The dragon's life was ended when the avatar had launched his Ebony Blade at them, lodging it in the dragon's skull.

This act did bring forth a rage unlike any Skyrim had seen, or has seen since, from the dragon's mortal companion. For just a few minutes, the tide of battle turned, the rage of that fair skinned Nord driving her to destroy her adversary, and she nearly succeeded. However, at one point, she removed the sword from her master's body, and bared it against the avatar. She had scarcely put it within a foot of his person when the sword froze in her hands. The blade being of Mephala's affinity, it was under control of her avatar, and he found that his opponent was completely motionless whilst wielding it. So he took that opportunity and sent forth unto her body a web of crystal needles to impale her flesh.

And that was the end of the battle. The Khajiit had completed the first part of his assignment, and went on to take over the Imperial City as well.

But he had no such luck fighting the Dragonborn, for she was much more powerful than any other. She possessed more power than he could extinguish with any efficiency. But he would not need to worry about that foe as, across Tamriel, in Black Marsh, at that very moment, a Shadowscale Argonian was born.


End file.
